Folie à Deux
by temporarytravesty
Summary: An early 20th century French term that translates directly to "shared madness." Vampire (Hunter) AU– READ the prologue
1. Chapter 1

Running. She hates it with a passion, preferring a lifestyle that revolves more so around a mellow, sedentary joint. Running. The physicality sucks, sure, but Cosima hates the lack of stability it offers. Running. She doesn't compete in races, no, this exercise requires the constant pestering, insufferable feeling of constantly being on the move and on her toes. She hardly smokes anymore, she rarely relaxes anymore, and she can barely believe that this "life" is _worth_ it.

What's the point of searching for a cure when there are people who would much rather see you dead? What's the point of searching for a cure when, if by some miracle, one exists and upon being found and ingested, death would follow suit? It's not even _the biology_ that would kill her… no, it's the hunters, the people who believe, no, _"know"_ she has no soul to save. Either way, Cosima is dead. If not by her own biology, _her own hand,_ then by the populous she so desperately craves to be accepted into. They'd shoot her with silver bullets, drown her in consecrated water, stake her in the chest, dismember her limb from limb and burn her tissues, leaving a body of brittled bones in their wake. So _what's the point?_ she thinks. _There's nothing better to do. It can't get any worse than this. I'm already dead._

It's time for her to move again– to run to another undisclosed location in the pursuit of a life she may never get the chance to greet. She sighs, glancing around her makeshift home, a cheap motel room housed above a rowdy pub with a chipped exterior and white, opaque windows marked from the wear of time. In all honesty, Cosima couldn't help but feel a semblance of _home_ in this dainty space filled with a history she could only dream of unraveling. She owed Mrs. S an eternity of gratitude for finding her this temporary haven. Gratitude which could only be repaid upon completing her ill-fated mission.

"Don't thank me, chicken. It'll be me owing you once you discover the serum. We all believe in you, Cosima." Placing a lifeless hand on her shoulder, Siobhan flashed her a fangy smile and motioned her out the pub. "I'll distribute the phones to the rest of the gang. Be careful."

Cosima nodded, returning a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes before bouncing off the front steps and onto the cold cobblestone streets. The sun was at its apex point in the blue, cloudless sky, blaring a thin layer of warmth on Cosima's olive-toned skin. Hands found solace in the pockets of her coat, giving Cosima ample space to spin the rings on her concealed fingers.

Each band offered her a unique ability that allowed her to live at least a semblance of a normal life. She could walk in the sunlight and her flesh was able to retain its natural complexion– pale simply didn't work well on her.

Cosima was going to need all the help she could get considering the task ahead. Her friend, Scott secured her a position at the DYAD Institute in Paris, France. It was no secret that the facility acted as HQ for the prestigious family of vampire hunters, "Chasseurs Cormier de la Mort."

Her job, for all intents and purposes, was the equivalent of that of a kamikaze pilot. Cosima was surprised everyone kept acting like it was anything but. She was drowning in her own pessimism while all those she loved around her seemed to bask in the unlikely flicker of hope Cosima's serum could offer them– _would_ offer them. _If_ only she saw in herself what everyone else so blatantly admired in her.

A large body collided with the petite brunette suddenly, knocking Cosima out of her reverie.

"S-sorry, uhhh… my bad, dude," sputtered Cosima, trying to focus, in vain, on the man she clumsily collided into. It wasn't until then that she realized the man was clinging to her sides in a tight embrace. "Woah, dude.. um."

Her cheek rubbed against the lapel's of her prosecutor's coat, forcing the unmistakable odor of oily-pepperoni pizza, baby powder, and cat litter to corrode her previously surmounting sense of horror.

"Scott– Jesus fucking christ– you scared the shit out of me!" croaked Cosima with a wide, genuine grin plastering her face. "It's so fucking good to see you, man." Giving the boy another reassuring squeeze, Cosima pulled away to admire her friend. "I thought we were meeting at the train station, Scotty… You know Mrs. S isn't too fond of any us changing her plans."

Scott fidgeted under Cosima's gaze, regardless of the playful tint coating her words, he adjusted his glasses with a sweaty palm and nodded uncomfortably, unsure of what to say. "I just wanted to see you. Get you ready, uh.. for the trip. Like not the train ride, but like **_the_** _trip_ …" Cosima narrowed her eyes, her mind finding disarray where understanding should have been. "…Like the craziness you're about to fling yourself into… like Harry Potter! Before he, before he found out he was an infamous baby wizard!"

Scott's voice boomed unceremoniously over the casual chatter of the busy cobblestone street, accumulating the unwelcome attention of more than a few bystanders. Cosima glanced around them, meeting the gaze of a short, blonde woman wearing a beige cardigan and frayed-jean shorts unexpectedly. The blue-eyed bombshell gave Cosima a wink before disappearing into a nearby cafe bustling with men and women in sharp, black corporate attire. _What is my life and whyyyyy the fuck did she go in there?_

"Cos.." attention snapping back to the boy beside her, the brunette gave a weak smile in acknowledgement before grabbing his arm and unknowingly-not-so-gently dragging him to the station down the street.

As Scott unceremoniously trailed in his friend's wake, he couldn't help his libido from taking in the small woman in front of him. As she dredged through the thickening crowd of commuters, bumping shoulders with an unwary few, Cosima carried herself with upmost poise and determination. When Scott wasn't busy attempting to look at anything other than her deliciously sashaying hips, he would occasionally take note of the petite woman's tongue poking from between her bleach-white teeth and furrowed brows, angled flawlessly above her black, impeccably-applied, wing-tipped eyeliner.

The duo found a secluded spot within the chaotic confines of the train station and took a seat, glancing around them to be sure they weren't followed.

Cosima eyed the boy beside her warily, lifting her right brow in interest. "So…. what is this _trip_ I should be getting ready for exactly? Like, is there something I should _know_ that I _don't_ already _know_ that you so obviously decided to go with Mrs. S and keep from me because you _know_ I wouldn't have agreed to this little gig you all have dug me into?"

Scott stared back at her coolly, failing miserably at paying sufficient attention to the longwinded question he was prompted. "Do you need to breathe when you talk or are vampires just, like, gifted at going on for long periods of time without breathing?"

"Fuck me," she sighed, unamused.

 _Gladly._

"Scott, tell me what I don't know. Seriously. I'm not in the mood for this bullshit."

The boy looked down at his palms sadly, exhaling softly. "I'm not coming with you to France, Cos." He met her eyes solemnly, hoping he could somehow share the next bit of information without spurring on an impromptu killing spree (not that Cosima would follow through with the macabre task, it was more Helena's style anyway). "There's a contact in Paris you'll be cohorting with named Danielle Fournier. She's a bartender at a pub a few blocks from DYAD."

Cosima nodded, acknowledging her predicament with warm, open arms. "That's not bad, Scott… I mean, you were a being a little overdramatic there, don't 'cha think?" She patted him on the shoulder playfully and grinned as her tongue poked between her teeth once more. "I mean, I'm totally bummed we won't be thuggin' it together and all, but assuming you'll be back in Minnesota, it'll be easier to cover ground faster without arousing too much suspicion–"

"That's not what I'm trying to tell you, Cosima."

"Then WHAT?" she hissed, eyes widening under the unnecessarily played out bout of news Scott was hitting her with. "What the fuck has you so spooked? You know i'm not the aggressive type; i'm not about to shoot the messenger– EVEN though he's really starting to push my buttons… I'd sooner have my Hermes fired than chewed out by a fellow blood-sucker." The slur caught in her tongue unforgivingly. It never got easier admitting who she had become–WHAT she had turned into.

Scott shook his head, choosing to ignore the semi-self-depreciating comment that slipped from his best friend's lips. "There's just another part to your assignment."

Cosima nodded, egging Scott to continue with a circular hand motion.

"You're going to be working with Dr. Cormier– the daughter, not the higher ups… She's working on a vaccine, as you know, to prevent vampires from effectively consuming human hosts' blood.

"So you have to watch out for her, maybe befriend her? –Keep her off your back, yeah? And work on finding a serum for LEDA, to cure yourselves– preferably before DYAD starts doing field trials and, more importantly, realizes that there's a black sheep among their flock."

"Oh, Shit." Scott nodded, choosing to look anywhere but at Cosima as she did the same.

"Did I tell you, Scotty, that I already thought this plan was suicidal? Because now it's just, just, just pathetically detrimental to my metaphysical well-being– as _if_ it wasn't enough already."

Less than a beat later, Cosima found herself wrapped up in another Scott-burrito. She didn't have the energy to cry, refusing to believe that this may be the last time she saw her dear friend.

"You have to go, Cos. The train will be leaving in 3-minutes… don't give up so easily though, okay? You're the strongest, smartest, most self-less person I know, AND, mon amie, I know you'll be successful."

The pair stood up awkwardly, maintaining their embrace before Scott reluctantly pulled away. The dreadlocked woman couldn't contain the warmth that spread through her cosmetically-tanned cheeks upon noticing the sincerity radiating from her friend's words.

Using her thumb to wipe away a stray tear, Cosima found herself drowning in a fit of laughter.

"Wait, what? What's so funny?" babbled the boy, confused at a joke that obviously flew right over his head.

"You wasted all that time on Rossetta Stone for nothing, ' _mon amie_ ,'" Cosima rebutted without missing a beat. "And on a more serious note, who the hell am I going to rely on for understanding the local lingo?" Scott cracked a small smile at his friend's blatant obliviousness.

"Well, 1– you knew about France before I did. 2– I bought you your own Rossetta; and 3– Mademoiselle Cormier will be your best bet for a safety net, my dear Geek Monkey."

All the humor melted away from the moment within the blink of an eye.

 _I'll be rubbing elbows with Dr. Cormier, the daughter of the elite fuckin' vampire hunter, Marc Cormier, at the lab all day? Fuck me. Fuck. Shit. Holy fucking goddamn piece of shit, I fucking hate my life. Better yet, I'll just let all the other bitches at LEDA entertain the idea that she isn't smart enough to sniff me out from the get-go. FUCK._

"Yeah, i'll be sure to ask her to translate 'mercy' before she stakes me in the chest," Cosima spat crudely before huffing, puffing, and shuffling away like a rabid puppy.

As guilt swiftly sank and settled within the pit of Scott's stomach, the word 'miséricorde' repeated like a broken record in his mind.


	2. Arriving In Paris

Cosima was furious, far past the realm of manageable frustration. _Why didn't we get goddamn smart phones? GPS would've been handy 2 hours ago._

Paris proved to be a labyrinth, ironically, a city she was balls-deep in and getting swallowed by. Cosima knew the others would be worried. Their faith in her was fueled by her vast understanding of micro-biology, not in her ability to navigate a foreign city, sans map.

She was still beyond pissed. If it weren't for her condition as an undead being, she would most definitely be sporting crimson cheeks and numb earlobes. The cold was almost as unforgiving as her urges to feed. Cosima's ability to bypass such mundane human follies proved to be her silver lining in this grim chapter of her existence.

As the sky began to grow a monotonous shade of purple, the lights dotting the cobbled streets became illuminated by the warm glow of lanterns. People began to exit their homes, preparing for a night fueled by light conversation, delectable cuisine, and blood-red wine. The souls littering the streets smelled of humanity's most prized vices and forgotten virtues, manners swapped out like church clothes for vulgarity and risqué ensembles–Cosima repressed the urge to join them, to make love to the night and forget the monster whispering sweet nothings inside her mind.

Cosima released a dejected sigh as she plopped onto a nearby bench. Illuminated by a single lamp-post, she found comfort in her temporary solitude, surrounded by boutiques, cafes, and a deserted park. A cluster of gangly, inebriated teenage boys found themselves intoxicated by Cosima, viewing her as a sexual conquest for their group enjoyment. Fumbling towards her, the oldest specimen sported a burgundy baseball cap and unremarkable, acne-ridden face. The others followed like a horde of zombies, lacking tact or grace.

"What brings you here, to my bench," he questioned brazenly, lifting his arms and motioning towards her seat. American. Cosima couldn't help the small smile that sprang from her lips.

"I'm lost."

"Ooooh… you're American too. I was really aiming for some super sexy foreigner… you'll do though," he responded disappointedly. His sour mood vanished instantaneously when he met Cosima's covetous gaze.

"Do you know where _The Baron's Brew_ is? It should be somewhere near DYAD," spoke Cosima cooly. Her body ached for warmth, a warmth he and his friends could offer her– in the form of crimson froth; oh, how she craved to slurp the juices seeping from their pale and tired veins…

The boy, named Dave, nodded eagerly. Cosima never got accustomed to the powers she possessed while wearing her rings. While most vampires grew to enjoy their newfound abilities, Cosima would've much rather continued her low-key life as an unassuming PhD student. As Cosima picked apart the strands constructing the teen's subconscious, the two engaged in what seemed to be silent conversation; Dave's peers grew restless. The boys shuffled uncomfortably behind their friend as their thoughts began to stumble and trip out of their bigoted brains and into Cosima's head.

 _'What the fuck, Dave? She's small, you could take her.'_

 _'Those tits though… Jesus Christ.'_

 _'Room's around the corner. Just grab her n' go.'_

 _'Can't wait to yank on those dreadlocks as I pound my dick into her mou-'_

 _'You'd think after the last girl we got, these bird brains would have their shit together.'_

The final comment pulled Cosima out of her stupor, abandoning her previous task to locate her contact. She deadpanned, gaze landing on the much older gentleman with a chiseled face and impeccably built frame. It was as if she froze time, walking up to the man, pulling his face level to hers by the collar. The group stilled; Dave continued to peer at the empty space Cosima's body previously inhabited.

 _'How many before me?'_ She asked softly; an unspoken inquiry, her words slithering into his mind, digesting memory after memory of the women they had already taken.

Five women. Two girls no older than 16.

The hand clutching the man's shirt grew pale, knuckles painted white. She silently urged herself to relax, to breathe, but her rage only seemed to bubble up inside her the more she tried to contain it.

His blue eyes widened upon registering her domineering proximity. She couldn't help but feel accomplished upon drinking in the fear radiating off the asshole in her clutches. And then– she snapped.

Cosima had vanished and in her place stood a vessel devoid of feeling, hooded by the rage-induced thirst she failed to dismiss in her final cognizant moments. Her drive to feed was primal and the group in front of her was oblivious of the pandora's box they opened.

As her canines leisurely began to expand, her tongue poked out from behind her pink, chapped lips, licking the skin found there.

Cosima brought her lips towards her prey's face with dilated pupils. He reciprocated the gesture, his brain bypassing the subtle difference between lust and hunger. As her lips roughly met the expanse of his sleek, ivory neck, she distantly registered the way his breath hitched in complete, total arousal. Her lips lingered on his skin, kissing her prize. She opened her mouth at an agonizingly slow rate, tongue gliding across his pulse-point, the blood pounding through his veins egging Cosima on– to commit herself to the act– to bite the fiend lacking sympathy for those he unnecessarily took.

Her fangs took matters into their own accord, breaking skin, eliciting a howl. Instead of finding reprieve however, Cosima recoiled in disdain. His blood was undrinkable, seemingly poisoned and meant to combat individuals like herself.

"Fucking, bitch." His eyes met hers in absolute disgust as he shoved her off of him with surprising strength she failed to anticipate. _'Psycho, I'm not into that rough sex in public shit– especially with reggae-looking, power-hungry, hoes.'_

"C'mon, Paul… let's get outta here," one of the zombies pled. _'Club Neolution is just around the corner…'_ the boy added in his thoughts.

Cosima regained control of her anatomy, her vampiric intuition having fled upon being tainted with Paul's unusable substance.

The crew angrily made their way towards their new destination, leaving Cosima alone without a clue as to what had transpired.

Cosima's eyes found themselves glued to her vintage, coal-black Doc Martins as she scuffled the pavement with her feet in disbelief.

An awkward cough announced another's presence. Cosima whipped her head towards the noise, dreads flying in tandem.

A woman no older than Cosima strolled closer with her head casually angled in a sideways glance. Her green eyes raked over Cosima's petite frame, pushing the woman into uncomfortable submission.

"Um, can I help you?" croaked Cosima, internally slapping herself at showing the stranger a hint of vulnerability.

"Non. But I can help you,… Cosima?" Her name flew from the woman's lips in the form of a question.

"How is that?" The dreadlocked woman regained some composure with her next words, losing all traces of nervousness.

"Cosima." The other woman smiled, casually stepping closer the the vampire with reassured comfort. "I can take you to _The Baron's Brew_."

The woman standing before Cosima finally made sense. From her wavy chestnut locks, brown eyes, and petit form, to her athletic stature and French accent– "Danielle Fournier."

xxxx

"Scott was concerned. As were the others," supplied Danielle, passing Cosima a glass of Parisian wine.

The pair had already made their way to the pub for a short respite, calling Cosima's makeshift family to assure them of her safe arrival. The bartender lovingly recounted the tale of Cosima's almost homicide as if it was a comedic ice-breaker at a children's birthday party. The tale spurned a few chuckles from Sarah and Felix, but produced a storm of castigation from Alison, Beth, and Siobhan. Cosima could feel Scott's disapproval of the entire event through Danielle's mobile device, but she at least appreciated that her friend had enough sense to keep his thoughts private regarding the matter.

After a short time within the proximity of drunkards and boisterous patrons, Danielle escorted Cosima to her new apartment located three blocks away.

When they entered Cosima's new " _pad_ ," the girl gracelessly flopped onto her new leather couch adorned with cushions softer than " _Aphrodite's breasts_."

"So you're a lady lover?" proposed the Frenchwoman questioningly, pursing her lips casually.

Cosima swooshed the red wine inside her mouth as if pondering the meaning of life.

"I enjoy people. I love the feminine form– some would say I… 'worship it…' but I enjoy the company of men, not as often or as enjoyably however."

Danielle contemplated her new friend's response without any sign of discomfort or disgust. The woman sat up smoothly, setting her own glass down on the antique wooden table located beside her.

"Well, it appears we are not so different after all," whispered Danielle lowly as she slank onto Cosima's lap.

Cosima basked in the other woman's touch, not having felt the company of another in a longer time than she cared to admit. The bespectacled woman knew she was attractive, it was simply a matter of finding someone she could fuck without wanting to suck them dry.

Danielle was immortal too, her cold skin feeling lukewarm to Cosima. The idea that _'similar temperatures tend to blend together naturally'_ formulated in her mind.

Danielle cupped Cosima's cheeks as she met her darkening pupils. She lowered her lips to Cosima's shortly after, leaving a short, yet substantial distance between the two. Their breath mingled between them, exciting the scientist pinned underneath the weight of an equally aroused brunette.

Cosima couldn't handle the lack of contact much longer, her desire for attention overthrowing her wish to tease the Frenchwoman. The American grabbed the woman in front of her, smashing their lips together forcefully. Danielle reciprocated her fervor, nipping at the woman, who tasted of strawberries and copper, beneath her.

Cosima's hips bucked in anticipation, her desire to feel human again becoming unbearable. Her lips found purchase on Danielle's pale neck as she traced the curve of her spine with confidently descending fingertips.

Danielle moaned at the pressure Cosima's lips elicited along the expanse of her skin. Each point of contact between the two felt as if they were on fire, stoked by the ministrations of both yearning women.

Cosima abruptly changed her focus to the button of Danielle's jeans, peeling them off after a few moments of awkward and heated fumbling. Cosima's dress shortly followed, along with her partner's shirt. Upon situating themselves into more appropriate positions, Danielle found herself latched onto Cosima's neck, fangs penetrating Cosima's olive skin in their routine progression of vampiric sexual practices.

Cosima groaned at the contact, relishing the necessary loss of control her situation offered her.

The feast ended before Danielle could truly start however; when the woman found herself drinking in the tainted concoction Cosima had recently submitted herself to, she jerked her body away from the couch and planted her feet firmly on the ground a few feet away from her almost-lover.

"What? What happened," questioned Cosima nervously, her words tripping over one another.

"You taste of him. Whatever it was that he had in his blood is still in you," spat Danielle frustratedly. "He must have connections with DYAD. If he knows anything about vampires, the Cormiers will be after you." The Frenchwoman was pacing around the apartment now, worry painted clearly upon her youthful face.

"He doesn't…" supplied Cosima. She was met with a dubious frown before adding, "I could hear his thoughts. He just thought I was a creepy dominatrix thing with weird hair or some shit."

Danielle nodded absently as her eyes glanced around the room, mapping out the locations of all her discarded garments. She hid her surprise well, not realizing the woman she just met was gifted with powers very few of their kind were privy to.

"I should be going. The bar needs to be closed soon, and I am probably wanted back. Not to mention you start work tomorrow."

Cosima glanced up and across the room at her friend from the couch before waving her hands noncommittally in a 'yeah, okay, that's fine,' gesture.

"There are blood packs in the mini-fridge in your bedroom. It's tucked in the back of your closet, in case you have unexpected guests." Cosima nodded and smiled half-heartedly, emotionally exhausted. "You should have some before work tomorrow… you look–"

"Yeah, got it. Thanks," interrupted Cosima, simply ready for the night to be over and the sting from her rejection to subside.

Danielle grinned genuinely as she fought with her stubbornly tied shoes.

"Bonne nuit, Cosima. Et Bienvenue à Paris." The local winked warmly at the American with a crooked grin before letting herself out.

Cosima sighed and shook her head disbelievingly as soon as the woman's steps faded down the hallway. Padding towards the door, she locked the series of locks it contained and made her way to her bedroom, not even bothering to clothe herself.

xxxx

"What is this," whispered a young woman fashioning short blonde hair, angled to frame her cheekbones. Her right hand tracing the subtle indents embedded in Paul's skin.

"Some girl tried to seduce me."

His gaze remained trained on the wall behind Rachel, opting to avoid her intrusive stare.

"And," she asked, louder now, British lilt making itself known to the world.

"And I refused. Went along my business."

Rachel trailed her fingertips along his jaw, cradling his chin with one hand before releasing him from her hold with a forceful shove.

"Inform the Cormiers of the possible threat," instructed Rachel harshly before adding, "You would think that as our newly promoted chief of security, you would have enough common sense to recognize the undead when in the presence of one. You have a job to do. Your father is dead– there is no one else available for our disposal, do you understand?"

Paul gritted his teeth, scowling at his overseer with disdain. "Yes, Rachel."

The woman flashed him a synthetic smile, eyes glazed with amusement. "It's Ms. Duncan. And it's nothing personal, Mr. Dierden." She drew him towards her until they were chest to chest. Her left palm traveled leisurely down his front, finding purchase on the buckle of his belt.

"It's time for us to come to terms," she hissed into his ear, taking a lobe into her mouth before biting down on the soft flesh.

He groaned with an odd combination of both arousal and contempt. His hatred for her made these moments easy for him, allowing him to distance his mind from his body. Paul was adept in sexual practices, reciprocating Rachel's desire to be violently manipulated.

As she rammed him onto her cold, metallic desk and began to mount him fully clothed, Paul let his mind wander to a time when he enjoyed his job; a time he was in (something resembling) love, a time he was free of burdensome responsibilities, a time his father was alive and he was still wanted by Delphine.


	3. Meeting

Cosima was sprawled on her back, staring at the ceiling through half-lidded eyes. Seeking a slumber that would never naturally greet her, Cosima was jarred from her comfortable position as a flash of white engulfed her vision. Her leg was on fire, skin charring and dissolving into nothingness right before her eyes. She threw herself off the bed, naked and aching, leg throbbing painfully. Cosima clutched the thin bed sheet dangling off the mattress beside her with her left hand and pulled it to her chest in exasperation.

Glancing around the room, Cosima's eyes shot to the uncovered, mutinous window welcoming sunlight into her chamber. She sighed angrily, lifting herself off the wooden floor with difficulty, her gracefulness not yet returned to her. As she hobbled to the night table on the opposing side of the bed, Cosima was forced to avoid the sun's lasers blocking her path.

 _One ray. Two ray. Third ray. Fuck._ Barely managing to avoid the final beam of light, Cosima tumbled to the ground with yet another crash. A loose dread slapped her in the face as she lifted her small frame into a sitting position, leaning on the nightstand she was navigating towards.

Nimble fingers slapped at the surface hidden from view. Her tongue poked from between her teeth as more time went on. Eventually, her digits found purchase on the warm bands she was aiming for. Gathering them up quickly, she brought them to her eye-level, stretching each finger out before her, and slipping each ring on, one by one.

As soon as the thin ruby and gold band circled her right ring finger, the skin on her leg began to heal with lightning-fast speed. Within a matter of seconds, her muscle was no longer on display, to no one in particular, and her epidermis had sewn itself together. Cosima let out a content sigh, allowing her head fall back onto the bed she was leaning on.

Closing her eyes, Cosima permitted herself to contemplate her future. Today was a day she was both obscenely apprehensive of and exhilarated to begin. She would get to start her work on the serum that would save her family and herself; she would have access to the best instruments available in the world; she would be a respected figure, thanks to Scott and Cal's influence, bolstering her resume (which was already prestigious beforehand); she would get inside information on the Cormiers endeavors to eliminate those she loved; most unnerving, however, she would meet Delphine, a woman who _could_ end her mission before it even began.

 _You got this Niehaus. You're the goddamn Geek Monkey and you're a fuckin' boss._

 _Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Just breathe. Just breathe._

When Cosima opened her eyes, a genuine grin was firmly rooted on her face. Although small, it was a start.

With renewed vigor, Cosima hopped off the ground and lifted her arms above her head, stretching her bones leisurely. She rolled her head around her neck and was greeted by a chorus of cracks and pops, tension ebbing from her bones. Rubbing her arms for warmth, Cosima padded to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Each stroke irritated her aching fangs, reminding her of the craving she had stubbornly pushed off thus far. Opting to shower after some much-needed sustenance, Cosima cloaked her naked body with her plum, silk robe. Crossing her arms, she made her way to the safe tucked within the confines of her, already overflowing, walk-in closet.

A fuchsia pink sticky-note hung off the front of a jet-black safe, inscribed with the code **,** ** _3-24-21_**. Turning the dial, the American meticulously calculated the position of each inscription, allowing her body to feel each click that signified another number successfully passed. Cosima grinned with the final pop of the machine, tongue poking through her teeth proudly. As the door slid open, a buzz beckoned Cosima to her feet. Frozen in position, Cosima's eyes navigated through each crook and cranny of the apartment within her view– until another buzz forced her to slam the safe shut and stride to the door.

"Who is it?" Spat Cosima begrudgingly into the receiver alongside the front door.

A smooth melodic voice rang through the receiver awkwardly, catching Cosima by surprise. "Uhm, my name is Gracie Johanssen. I'm an intern at the DYAD institute. My boss told me to come help you out since she's really busy right now. Can you let me in?"

The brunette's eyes widened in confusion, head shaking unconsciously back and forth. "Uh, hi? Listen Gracie, I don't know you and DYAD never told me someone was coming to 'help me out.' I'm going to have to ask you to leave." Cosima released the button of the receiver, content with her timely response.

"Ms. Niehaus, DYAD didn't have your cell phone number on file, trust me, I'm not so comfortable knocking on a stranger's door. Usually Dr. Cormier does these things herself, but she wanted me to run some errands and figured I could grab you on the way back," Gracie paused awkwardly, trying to come up with something else to say, "I'm only the messenger. Plus, you need a friend in the new city right? I promise I'm not that bad… you seem… nice?"

Cosima chuckled, shaking her head fondly at the girl waiting for her downstairs, seemingly no older than 19.

"Give me 10 minutes, Gracie. I'll be down in a sec."

The brunette trotted back to the bedroom, cracking open the safe once more, before snatching a blood-pack from the fridge inside. Pausing with the package in her hand, eyes still trained on the rows of blood bags inside the safe, Cosima bit on her cheek thoughtfully, contemplating if she should suck on another for good measure. Opting to splurge, she yanked another from its home and slammed the metal door shut.

Cosima knew she was hungry. That much was already a given for her. She just never realized she was _this_ hungry– to the point of bestiality. Her eyes bulged from their sockets as she practically _died_ on the spot.

Before she knew it, the packages were sucked dry– not a single trace of blood to be found inside.

Cosima placed the plastic packs in the trash as she danced around the room shucking on various articles of clothing. Once her Aztec blouse and jeans were snug on her body, with mounds of jewelry in transit, she folded herself within her favorite red coat and headed down the flight of stairs.

She was met with a warm smile from a young redhead, presumably Gracie, as soon as she opened the door leading to the long, busy street.

"Welcome to Paris, Ms. Niehaus," greeted Gracie warmly, offering her a steaming cup of coffee with a smile.

Caught off guard, Cosima shifted in place awkwardly, shaking her hands as politely as possible in dismissal. "No tha–"

"Please, compliments of the boss!" reassured Gracie kindly, arm still outstretched, offering the Styrofoam cup full of unappetizing, caramel liquid.

Cosima sighed inaudibly. "Yeah, sure, I guess."

The drink felt odd in her palm, hand having grown accustomed to the glacial monotony of chilled blood bags.

The pair strolled down the sidewalk towards DYAD in companionable silence… for a minute at most. As soon as Cosima began to appreciate the foreign land around her, full of chatty commuters and the casual clatter of café patrons' coffee cups, Gracie felt it necessary to comment on dull, local current events. Cosima was never a fan of small talk, everything needed to have a purpose for her to truly engage in any sort of communication; what was the point of insipid conversations anyway? Humanity's desire to fill every empty space with worthless jargon only managed to irritate the brunette– since she was turned, each circumstance only seemed to test her composure, sometimes building up to the point of insidious retaliation. Perhaps under regular circumstances, if Cosima's biology wasn't held hostage from the bittersweet process of aging, she could appreciate these moments– moments where humanity choked on its own imperfect desire to stand out and add meaning to an otherwise unspectacular present. Cosima wasn't always like this. She used to be enthralled in the most minute details of her every day; she would dance without music, sing the wrong words, forget the pressures of college with an impeccably rolled joint– she'd laugh at her own puns and actually bother making them in the first place. She was so in love with life, sometimes it surprises her how much has changed in so little time. A decade of wavering determination and hope engaged in a downward spiral has left her broken.

Cosima always _tried_ to be cheerful, in fact, she was known for the toothy-smile she always managed to plaster on her face no matter the circumstances– but Gracie… Gracie is someone she didn't ask for.

"You'll just love, DYAD, Cosima. Some of the projects Dr. Cormier's working on at the moment are right up your alley. Evolutionary development, right? Well, Dr. Cormier is currently tracking the–"

"–WATCH OUT, GRACIE!" interrupted Cosima emphatically, yanking the oblivious redhead from the path of a speeding food truck.

Gracie tumbled into Cosima, who underestimated the strength of her grip on the taller girl.

"Shit, sorry," sputtered Cosima, "Are you alright?"

Gracie gaped at the short woman beside her whose hand was still firmly clasped onto her bicep, blood pumping from her recent brush with death. Her veins were working double-time, heart practically bubbling out of her throat.

"Yeah… a little surprised? I'm usually really good at tracking my surroundings…"

Her voice gradually faded into muffled static, like a cell phone with bad connection. Cosima's eyes remained fixed on Gracie's neck, her read hair cascading around her flushed chest. _Dum-dum. Dum-dum. Dum-dum._ Chocolate eyes turned dark, pupils dilating at the sight of the redhead's jugular veins pulsing through her neck.

"Ms. Niehaus? MS. NIEHAUS!" Repeated Gracie worriedly, hand waving frantically in front of Cosima's face.

"Huh? Oh. Sorry. I'm just," hands swirled in the air, struggling to grasp the right words to complete her train of thought, "tired, I guess."

Cosima hoped Gracie was bad at reading people. Her throat was burning, fists turning white at her sides. The brunette sucked in a deep breath, working to ignore the disappointment in her bones from her decision to bypass blood for cool Parisian air.

Gracie nodded skeptically, having already taken note of the lust in the other woman's gaze. Choosing to ignore it, she glanced at her wristwatch absently, trying to take attention away from the strange turn of events.

"We're running late. I'll tell Delphine it's my fault, since… well, yeah." Gracie fiddled with the empty coffee cup in her hand, taking a fake sip before tossing it in a nearby rubbish bin. "We're only a few blocks from DYAD." The intern glanced back at Cosima, finally taking note of coffee-stained coat. "I'm so sorry!"

Puzzled, the brunette followed Gracie's line of vision, and realized the intern had spilt Delphine's coffee all over her.

"Fuck." Cosima lifted her arms up as she gave her favorite red coat a once-over, sighing internally, she chose to ignore the discomfort the liquid offered her as droplets of coffee began to trail down her stomach underneath her clothes.

Shucking the heavy fabric off her shoulders, Cosima gave Gracie a polite smile and waved off her concern casually. "It's fine, Gracie. Happens to the best of us."

"It's freezing, here, borrow my coat."

"Nooooooo, no. I promise, it's good. I'm not even cold, dude."

Gracie scanned Cosima's figure and noted she actually did look fine after all. It was November. "For a California girl, you sure are comfortable around the cold. It's 7c, Ms. Niehaus."

"PLEASE call me, Cosima. I'm not used to all these formalities. I can call you Gracie, right? I sorta just assumed…"

Gracie nodded cheerfully, smiling before cutting her off, "yeah, Gracie is perfect."

"And I guess you read my file? I don't remember saying I'm from Cali." Cosima smiled wickedly, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

"Oh, uh, yeah." Gracie blushed as she became unexpectedly interested in the cobblestone street beneath her feet.

"Kay. Let's just get going." Gracie met Cosima's cheeky grin before she added jokingly, "I might just get cold if we stand out here any longer."

Xxx

She was practically shaking. Nerves maybe? It made no sense. Gracie was completely capable of picking Cosima up from her apartment alone, but why couldn't she do it herself? Sure, she was busy– but busier than usual? Not exactly. She was used to working alone, most lab assistants having only lasted a week at most. Delphine chalked it down to the intense workload, or the fact that they were incapable of using even a microscopic amount of discretion with their projects. She found herself unable to trust those who were chosen for her to work with by Leekie or her father. Delphine needed to control her own lab.

Cosima was bound to be different, Delphine chose her, after all. Out of a pile of over 100 applicants, Cosima appeared to be the most qualified– no, she was overqualified– Delphine would be lying if she were to say she wasn't at least a little intimidated by the young scientist.

Cosima Niehaus

 **Born:** March 4, 1984

 **Birthplace:** San Francisco, California

 **UC Berkeley:** ( _Bachelors)_ Molecular and Cell Biology: Genetics, Genomics, and Development

 _(Transfer to UM) Microbiology_

 **Organizations:** ASAB, Alt Breaks*, ATCB, BARE, BEACN, BASIS, TBF*, BFR

BSR*, BerkOp, BFM Radio*

***denotes GM, Editor, or Leadership Position

 **University of Minnesota:** ( _PhD)_ Evolutionary Development

 **Organizations:** Youth Music Education Foundation, Video Game Development Club, Amateur Musicians Playing For Delight

Cosima was different. She was science and talent. Cosima did something Delphine was never able to do– delve into science while maintaining a semblance of a social, fun, energetic lifestyle. Design Video Games? A musician? Radio host? What wasn't she? Well, obviously Cosima was intelligent, brilliant even, but she was also someone Delphine wanted to be more like. She hoped that maybe by bringing in someone… different, someone who didn't simply spew academic accolades all over her resume, someone who could bring something different out of her, she could find a sense of peace with the unfulfilling state of her life. Work was tense. Work was tiring. Delphine craved something fresh. Delphine craved someone to make her life a… little brighter, maybe? But what if Cosima wasn't anything like Delphine hoped? What if Cosima was another dud– another disappointment, another soul-less face in the lifeless schedule she was forced to live on?

The lab door buzzed open, Gracie casually strolling through its threshold, paralyzing her as if she were Medusa. She was… alone?

"Gracie?" croaked Delphine, confused with wide, puppy-dog eyes.

"Yes, Dr. Cormier?" replied Gracie casually, twiddling with the stack of lab reports in her hands.

"Where is Cosima?"

The younger girl's eyes widened questioningly. "She's not here?" Delphine shook her head slowly, eyes concurrently narrowing. "I left her down the hall with Phillipe. He was making her ID card. She should've been done by now though…"

The room was cloaked in a thick blanket of obdurate silence. Under her superior's stare, Gracie began to fidget anxiously in her spot by the door. "I can go loo–" Delphine raised her hand silencing her.

"Non. She can't be too far." Gracie gulped, nodding her head in submissive agreement. Delphine's eyes snapped to the paperwork in Gracie's hands authoritatively, "Are those the lab results I requested?"

Gracie nodded before hastily adding, "y-yes, Dr. Cormier." The redhead rushed over, placing the stack neatly on Delphine's desk. "Oh, and here's your café au lait."

"Merci, Gracie" thanked Delphine lightly with a small, tight smile.

Gracie mirrored Delphine's expression and shuffled to her desk, plopping her bag on the ground beside her chair.

Moving her attention to the quantitative data in front of her, Delphine shifted in her seat, attempting, in vain, to move into a more comfortable position. She trapped her bottom lip between her teeth nervously, analyzing the results of her most recent trial, testing the effects of a newly developed treatment on human blood.

The results themselves were groundbreaking, revealing that it was possible to prevent an individual from succumbing to vampire venom. The problem, however, rested on the inconsistency of the strength of one individual vampire's venom to another. It would be impossible to predict how much serum a human would need to counteract the parasitic invasion of a vampire's venom. Too much of the injection would kill the host– too little would increase the effects of the parasite.

Delphine sighed, tossing her most recent reports on her desk; exhausted and frustrated, she tilted her head back, running her fingers through blonde unruly locks, slamming her eyes shut. She needed sleep. But even more so, she needed Cos–

"Cosima!" Gracie rushed to the door, red hair flying behind her.

Delphine jolted upright, straightening her spine as if she were electrocuted.

Cosima paused mid-laugh, frozen at the lab's entrance, the reality that she needed an invitation in, slapping her in the face. Chuckling nervously, she tilted her head to the side and shifted her weight from foot to foot. "Uhm, hey Gracie. I just saw you like ten minutes ago so you don't have to act so excited to see me."

Delphine couldn't help the girlish giggle that slipped from her pink lips, clamping her teeth down on her bottom lip in an attempt to silence the unwelcome sound. She could feel the others' eyes on her, both Gracie and Cosima in awe of the woman sitting in the middle of the room, both for very different reasons.

Gracie had never heard Delphine laugh in her three strenuous months on the job, and _all of a sudden, this cheeky woman with dreadlocks comes along and evokes this-this-this giggle? She actually fucking giggled? "Cold bitch Cormier" giggled?_

Cosima would have glared at the intern for her choice in a nickname for this beautiful woman, if it weren't for the clusterfuck of synapsis firing off in her brain. This woman– this Cormier– was, without a doubt, angelic. Her golden hair cascaded down her shoulders in small ringlets, reflecting light off of each sacred curve and dip– her lips were wine, their shade somehow matching the scent wafting through the sterile airspace of the lab. Cosima wanted to drink her in, blood no longer seeming to be enough to satisfy the hunger growing behind her face and above her heart.

Cosima's enigmatic bronze-colored eyes met Delphine's hazel freckled irises in a slow, unintentionally seductive manner. The contact rendered the blonde silent, feeling as though she were rammed in the stomach by a bullet. Her lips parted in awe-inspired confusion, tongue darting out to wet her lips, unsure of what to say to coax the new employee into her– no, their– lab.

"Ms. Cormier?" Gracie looked between the two women, unsure of what unspoken conversation had taken place between her two superiors– if any.

"MS. CORMIER?" Gracie looked to Cosima now, confusion mounting. _Go on a break, Gracie. Come back in 30 minutes._

Although no words sprouted from the eclectic woman's mouth, it didn't startle the redhead who had already decided to take her much needed leave from the lab.

Gracie shuffled past Cosima, who had yet to be invited in the room, on her way out the door, leaving Delphine alone with the new DYAD employee.

Cosima begrudgingly averted her gaze from Delphine's and opted to trace the outlines of the doctor's silhouette. The beat of her heart increased as Cosima's eyes trailed further down her body, taking in the supple curve of her lips, gentle gradient of her collarbones and alluring dip of her hips. Superhuman eyes trained on the core of the other woman as her ears picked up on the languid release of liquid arousal. It wasn't unheard of for Cosima to evoke such a response from a human being… but a Cormier? And for Cosima to feel it back? That was unheard of.

"You're going to break skin if you press any harder on that lip of yours, Dr. Cormier," chided Cosima playfully, trying to diffuse whatever, albeit completely welcome, spark was taking place between them.

"Merde. Je suis désolé. Entrez, entrez." The Frenchwoman's hands twisted awkwardly through the air, coaxing Cosima to enter, creamy skin flying chaotically through space, an action Gracie revealed to be so out of character. "I'm not usually like this."

The dreadlocked vampire smiled politely, wringing her own hands behind her back, pursing her own lips, intrigued. "Not usually what?" A flash of teeth. "In the presence of someone who is nearly able to rival your beauty?" The words came out far too quickly. "Don't worry–you're unbeatable."

Delphine opened her mouth, brain failing to grasp at any clear response to her new employee's blatant act of promiscuous teasing.

"Shit. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to offend you," Cosima offered quickly, fear overtaking her once dominating urge to play with the woman she'd be spending almost all her time with in the coming months.

Delphine shut her mouth, finally finding the words that had been eluding her since this woman walked into her life. Before she could get a word out, a hearty chuckle erupted from the base of her throat.

All Cosima could see was the blood rushing to Delphine's once-creamy skin. She could almost taste her, and feel the hot flow of her pulse dance with her own thirsty tongue. She could almost feel her teeth sink into the pliant surface of her angelic skin– oh, how she wanted to mark her… The thought itself, burning the hallow cave of her throat, the idea scorching her own flesh like regurgitated vomit.

"Thank you for the compliment, Dr. Niehaus." Her smile could disarm entire armies. "I'm Dr. Cormier, in case you didn't know and this," motioning around the space, "will be our lab."

Cosima snapped out of her reverie as best as she could, the burn still somewhat apparent in the back of her throat.

"And you can call me Delphine." She isn't sure why she opted to remove the formalities, she just knows she couldn't have this woman in front of her call her by such a professional name. Professional titles were important but she refused to allow them to distance herself from this new woman in her life.

Cosima managed to give her employer a bright smile, successfully hiding her fangs in the process, as she walked to stand in front of Delphine. "Call me Cosima."

The blonde gave the dreadlocked woman a bright, open smile, before offering her hand to the American, "enchanté."

Cosima stared at the offered appendage briefly before opting to grasp it with her own cold one. The Frenchwoman felt so warm, so comforting, so much like… home.

"Enchanté."


	4. Chapter 4: More Than She Bargained For

Delphine couldn't help herself as her eyes drifted over to the seemingly oblivious woman at the other end of the room chewing on the back of her pen, deep in thought, for the tenth time in less than five minutes.

After their… strange, yet, alluring introduction, she had sent the American to look over some of the labs she had conducted over the past few weeks. Although some statistics proved to be promising, Delphine couldn't shake the dilemma concerning the serum's reliability. How could she possibly make the vaccination more dependable, without overlooking the very real threat of poisoning its host?

Cosima could feel Delphine's eyes on her, and she was reveling in it– pursing her lips suggestively as her mouth found its way around the back of her pen, tongue poking out from its cave, navigating every dip and sharp edge defining her pen cap.

Delphine's hazel eyes traced the length of pink flesh probing at the writing utensil, her breath catching at the back of her throat suddenly, when the subject of her complete and utter attention angled her own body towards Delphine, with her eyes still on the data sheets.

"You're working on a vaccination to prevent vampires from using human blood?" Cosima's brows furrowed questioningly, eyes eventually snapping up towards her superior's glazed stare.

"Oh, um, oui… We are working to create a serum that will protect its host from parasitic invasion," clarified Delphine meekly.

"Parasitic being… a vampire's saliva– er, venom?"

"Oui. We are aiming to protect the human subject from victimization while also subduing the offender– the vampire," clarified Delphine, nodding her head more confidently now.

Cosima searched Delphine's face for anything else she may have left unsaid, opting at the last second to use a more acceptable form of attaining information. "What happens to the vampire?"

Delphine frowned, subtly shaking her head in confusion, mind unsure of what Cosima was actually asking. "I'm not sure what–"

"I mean, what exactly do you mean by 'subduing the offender– subduing the vampire?' Is the serum meant to exterminate, debilitate, or maybe even track the… monster?" The brunette's face fell microscopically on the last word, an act that was luckily overlooked by Delphine.

Cosima wasn't so sure why she opted to refer to her own kind as monstrous to this new woman, if anything, she'd hoped that her new friend would think of her genus in a kinder, brighter light, than the masses encompassing DYAD. But what was she thinking? That's what they were, right? Monsters?

"Well, the extent of which our serum will affect… vampires is still being debated. Doctor Leekie believes that any goal is possible through enough trial and error, so that much is to be decided." Delphine smiled brightly at the brunette across the room, meeting her eyes gently.

The distance bothered the Frenchwoman who felt as though the conversation should be taking place no more than an arms length apart. There was something about distance to her that made things colder and less comprehensible. Delphine had grown up believing that communication was rooted just as much in the body as in the words that were spoken. The physical form was always just as, if not more, important than the collection of consonants and vowels tumbling from gregarious lips. Even though she preferred the distance she placed between herself and others, Cosima was just… different.

Delphine bit her bottom lip nervously before deciding to move closer to the cheeky American. As Delphine's metallic stool scraped obnoxiously against the plain, white linoleum floor, Cosima cringed, barely able to refrain herself from covering her ears at the amplified sound.

The Frenchwoman's black heels clicked evenly towards the brunette, who could practically see her superior sashaying her hips in transit in her peripheral vision. Once Delphine's heels relinquished their percussive qualities and the woman came to a graceful stop beside Cosima, the American was assaulted by a whole new wave of repugnance– the woman's scent. The Parisian perfume cloaked the woman marvelously, the tiniest hint of nicotine and smoke mixed with sweet roses, soothing jasmine, and an airy hint of freshly cut grass; Cosima's eyes shut sleepily, feeling as though she were eight again, rolling along the grassy planes of the Golden Gate Park. She opened her eyes and could feel the sunlight embracing her every limb, baptized by the blazing ball in the sky as the breeze blew along the expanse of her tanned-skin. She felt so warm, so free, and so utterly alive– she could practically taste the salt drifting through the air as she so excitedly drifted through nature's playground.

"Cosima?"

But now, all she could taste was the phantom flavor of Delphine's crimson nectar. Cosima's throat burned obnoxiously, her eyes shutting with the hope that the desire to sample the woman beside her would dissolve into something more… tolerable.

"Cosima? Are you alright?" Delphine whispered with furrowed brows, worry flooding into the woman's infernally divine features. Cosima allowed her eyes to open, and peeked from behind her frames at Delphine, questioningly, her left leg bouncing anxiously underneath her desk.

"Hmm? Yeah, I'm fine– golden, even." Cosima almost believed herself, the lie slipping casually from behind evidently clenched teeth.

Delphine let it go, offering Cosima a tight-lipped, yet genuine, smile. She placed her hand on the brunette's shoulder and rubbed her thumb soothingly.

"You know, Cosima… here at the DYAD institute, we are experimenting, as you can see, with different vaccinations to help protect people from vampires… and other ailments as well…" Delphine twirled the hand that wasn't perched on Cosima's shoulder in the air, already inheriting some of her coworker's most prominent mannerisms. "As scientists, we have access to the more… stable medications– medications that have been proven to work for the long-term." Cosima nodded her head, meeting the other woman's hazel eyes, watching as they dilated before her. "I recommend you visit the special-divisions clinic and take some. Paris is very safe with DYAD and 'Chasseurs Cormier de la Mort' working within its walls, but that does not mean that you cannot guarantee yourself some extra protection, pensez-vous pas d'accord?"

Cosima nodded, still reveling in the human's touch. "I'll consider it." Delphine replied with a questioning look, unsure of why the bespectacled woman would opt to live sans inoculation. "I'd just like to feel the city out first? Really see if I need to inject something into my body… I'm not afraid of the dead, honestly," replied Cosima casually, head dipping to avoid the Frenchwoman's stare.

There was silence, longer than Cosima felt comfortable being a part of until the Frenchwoman sighed audibly and turned on her heel, back towards her seat.

"You should," spoke Delphine softly, trailing off into the silence. Cosima panned over to the source of the sound and grimaced, Delphine meeting her eyes sadly before her mind was enveloped by blackness.

 _Suddenly, she was walking, trailing behind another man in a white lab coat. With each step she took, Cosima felt less and less like herself. It wasn't until she passed a collection of glass panels that she noticed the woman in her reflection wasn't exactly her– it was Delphine._

 _"Delphine, your father is ready to speak to you now," the man in white informed her, grinning weakly before returning to, what Cosima assumed, was the direction of the lab._

 _"Merci, Allard." Delphine and Cosima exhaled before stepping into Marc Cormier's office. The room was grand and impeccably decorated with various vampire-hunt trophies, ranging from a glass case displaying an assorted collection of fangs to vials of blood from each 'bastardly fiend they had successfully rid the world of.' The walls were adorned with iron, silver, and golden weapons, from pistols to grenades to crossbows, all glimmering within their dimly lit corner of the room._

 _"Delphine, ma fille, comment allez-vous?" Marc Cormier's voice was deep and oddly soothing to Cosima. She figured it had to do with her being in Delphine's memory because she knew that if it were her in Delphine's place… well, she'd be dead, obvs, probably in one of Monsieur Cormier's display cases. Fantastic._

 _"Bien." Delphine's gaze fell to the floor. She sounded so… so sad. So wounded. As if she were mourning the death of a beloved or–_

 _"Delphine, I know this must be hard for you. Ton frère est manquant. I understand why your work has been lacking and I am not upset. Leekie, on the other hand…"_

 _"–Why am I here, Père? Colin is fine, he must be… he is supposed to meet me tonight; you'll see, he is fine. He has just been sick– the flu. It's been circulating the office, non?" Delphine offered meekly, her voice a mere whisper among the silence._

 _Colin… the name sounded so familiar to Cosima. She couldn't shake it; she couldn't shake the chill of recognition the name sparked in her own conscious._

 _Delphine's father visibly sagged, his posture crumbling with the weight of the information he had yet to divulge to his daughter… his only living child._

 _Marc Cormier stuffed his calloused hands into his pockets, walking around his desk to lean on its front. The wood whined as a result of his weight, creaking obnoxiously. "Delphine," sighed Monsieur Cormier, "your brother is dead." His words were faint, yet they echoed in the crowded room, seemingly expanding under the tension filling it. Removing his hands from their haven, he clasped them together, rubbing his knuckles and applying pressure to the tendons strained beneath fair, scarred skin. "Colin's body was discovered in a building we've suspected as being a vampire lair for quite some time… it appears he was abducted and…" his voice cracked from the strain of information, his throat dry and closing in on itself. Shaking his head abruptly as if it would remove him from this nightmare, Marc Cormier lifted his head towards the ceiling and took a deep breath. Emotions were dangerous in this field. He needed to grieve, but he needed to stay strong. If his enemies were to see him in this weak state, they could strike again, eliminating the two women his life was brightened by– the only people he cared for; the only people he would do anything for. "The building was burned to the ground. His body– burned beyond recognition… tissue samples and blood remained. Mr. Dierden extracted them on behalf of Doctor Leekie. I am sorry, Delphine. I am so, so sorry."_

 _Even though her body was stiff and her legs had long since lost circulation, Delphine had yet to move– had yet to react beyond her regular breathing. She felt so light… unbearably so, as if she could float into inexistence right there, in an office she remembered playing hide-and-seek as a petite fille with her frère. She could see his small, nimble body buzzing around the office. A boy so engrossed and in love with life, that he studied its counterpart– he studied death. And now? Now he was a corpse? Charred and unrecognizable? No skin, all bone. Painted black from the demonic infernos he was never supposed to be baptized in… so many times, he practiced cremation with the corpses flooding the morgue deep within in the depths of DYAD, eliminating the evidence of tainted humans who acted as midnight snacks for those lacking civil empathy and those who committed the nefarious deeds, damning them to inexistence where their kind belonged._

 _Cosima cringed at the revelation Delphine's memory offered her, unable to focus on anything other than the paleness of the Frenchwoman's skin. She looked dead, and maybe she was now. Perhaps the news of her brother's death robbed her as much as it robbed him of living._

 _Time shifted– the office of horrors became a sterile apartment, white and clear of clutter. There was a knock on the door and Cosima watched, as Delphine remained seated on the plain, red couch that matched the pigment of the liquid she swirled around her filled wine glass. A man with a large build, short brown hair, and blue eyes peeked his head through the door slowly, regarding Delphine with a familiarity that did nothing to soothe Cosima's immediately induced rage. The man from the alley… If she was a monster, he was much worse. What was he doing here and why was he looking at Delphine like that?_

 _Kicking off his leather shoes, Paul padded over to the couch, sitting beside the Frenchwoman. "Delphine…" he cooed. Receiving no response, he angled his body to receive her, wishing to alleviate the pain she refrained from releasing. Paul tugged at her free arm, pulling her towards his chest only to have her swat him away._

 _"Non, Paul. Do not do that," huffed the blonde, shooting him a repulsed look. "I do not need to be coddled; I am not a child."_

 _Paul recoiled slowly, hugging his body awkwardly in rejection. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to–"_

 _"–Exactly, you never mean to do anything, Paul." Setting the, now empty, glass down on the mahogany coffee table, Delphine ran her ivory hands through her unruly, golden locks. "You should leave."_

 _Paul sighed and shook his head disbelievingly. "Delphine, don't push me away because of this… I'm all you have left." As soon as the words left his mouth, Paul regretted them._

 _Delphine's eyes shot up as she stared daggers at her paramour through red-rimmed eyes. Lip quivering in anger, she stood up and calmly padded to the threshold of her bedroom before turning around to face him for the last time. "You are not all I have left. I have my family. I have my work. I have myself. I do not need you– I do not need a man who parades around France looking for hookups and fucks his corporate superior on the side," scoffed Delphine venomously._

 _Gaping, Paul wanted to respond but was unable to latch onto anything concrete to say._

 _"I am not your girlfriend anymore, Paul. I refuse to be disrespected and played as a fool. So do not come here and pretend you care about my well-being when you…" Flailing her hands in the air, Delphine sneered angrily and motioned for the man to leave. "Au revoir, morceau de merde."_

Suddenly, Cosima was thrust back into the present with an intense sense of nausea– something she was only acquainted with in times of dire misfortune, when she was forced to feast on rotten meat or ate too much human cuisine. She was afraid to look up– afraid that by doing so, she'd realize that Delphine was aware of their merge… Taking a peek through her peripherals, Cosima noticed the blonde was shaking, her face hidden from view.

Delphine felt lethargic all of a sudden. She had no idea what happened, but the memories she reverted to… they felt so tangible– so fresh– as if the mere thought of them slashed open the wound she worked so tirelessly to heal.

Before she could acknowledge what was happening, Delphine felt herself enveloped by strong, tan arms, smelling distinctly of vanilla and cannabis. As her neck met thick twists of dreadlocks, Delphine almost instantly melted into the American's body. Finding comfort in Cosima's body, Delphine allowed her tears to fall freely– in the company of another person for the first time since she was delivered the news.

As Delphine's fragile frame shook from the weight of her deep-rooted sorrow and chest heaved from her wrecking sobs, Cosima only held on tighter; rubbing the Parisian's arms with the tips of her fingers and humming a tune absently.

Once her tears stopped their decent and her breathing returned to normal, Delphine shivered from the chill circulating the room. "Je suis désolé… I, um, I never do this… I don't–"

"Cry?" Offered Cosima gently with a whisper, her breathy words tickling Delphine's exposed earlobe.

Giggling, Delphine nodded, using her free hands to wipe away any excess wetness. I can't loose control like that in my lab… it's unprofessional and completely uncalled for, thought Delphine.

Unwrapping herself from the blonde, Cosima made her way to sit across from the woman, grabbing all the things from her previous work station so she would not have to move again. "Hey, Delphine?"

Looking up, Delphine met warm, chocolate irises, offering its owner a warm smile. "Yes, Cosima?"

Pursing her lips in thought, Cosima twirled the ruby ring around her finger anxiously. "I know you're my boss and we're working together… but I'm new here… I don't have any friends and… well, I hope you know that if you ever need anything, be it a second opinion on some lab results or book recommendations, I want you to know you can trust me; you can talk to me and I'll listen without judgment." Delphine wanted to cry again at the willingness in which the brunette offered her friendship. Biting her lip, Delphine nodded as Cosima added, "besides, you are far too beautiful, too young, and too intelligent to be so sad."

"Merci, Cosima," offered Delphine genuinely, meeting Cosima's intense gaze before looking away quickly in embarrassment. With flushed cheeks, Delphine opened another folder containing pertinent data before returning to work.

This was going to be much harder than Cosima thought.


	5. Chapter 5: Revelations

At the end of the day, Cosima found herself more exhausted than usual. The subject matter of her and Delphine's work at the DYAD Institute was both fascinating and frightening for the better half of her kind, all at once. It didn't help that vampires killed Delphine's brother. It didn't help that Delphine and her had, somehow, merged, making Delphine's deplorable memories a living reality for the brunette. It didn't help that this connection was… impossible to begin with. Yes, Cosima could read minds, but she couldn't live through them– minds aren't film reels, they can't be played like a movie or experienced like a first-person video game. Yet, here she was, ruminating over the impossibility of something, somehow, made possible by chance.

Calling Danielle on her way to her flat, Cosima managed to get the contact information of a local weed dealer, because god, she needed a joint. Although the THC never had quite the same effect it once did on her psyche, it was the act of lifting the thin stick to her lips and inhaling its lucrative powers of 'chill' that made her relax, reminding her of the days she still had a beating heart.

Locating her laptop, Cosima flopped onto her couch, turning off all the lights in the flat before making herself comfortable. Cosima opened the metal capsule, watching the machine come to life in her bare hands, fingers relieved of their metallic collars.

Opening up _Skype_ , Cosima moved the cursor over Siobhan Saddler's icon, luckily online. Stubbing her joint on a nearby ashtray, Cosima sighed and called her matriarch.

Not having to wait long, the older woman greeted Cosima with a concerned smile. Cosima could hear the cacophony of the business taking its course on the floor below Siobhan, forgetting the woman must be busy with patrons. "Well, Chicken, you know I love to hear your voice, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't surprised to hear from you so soon," said Siobhan to break the silence, "You're lucky I was waiting for a chat from Kira, but you know Sarah… never punctual, always the mess."

Cosima nodded, rolling her head around her neck for the heck of it. "I know this is… inconvenient, but you're the only one who might know what… it is I'm dealing with here."

Her interest peaked; the older woman narrowed her eyes at the brunette on her computer display.

Recognizing this was the only response she'd get, Cosima continued, "You know I can read people… read their thoughts and all that jazz." Siobhan nodded. "Well, I've never been able to experience their thoughts… like their memories. Is it possible to be drawn into someone's mind like that? To the point where you're basically there in the moment– where you're completely disarmed and experiencing whatever the individual is as if you were them?" Her hands were twirling in the air as she rambled through her monologue, wanting nothing more than answers, but getting lost in the components of her claim.

Siobhan's facial expression remained stoic, concealing her reaction. "And did they notice what happened? Did they recognize that this… merge occurred?"

Cosima shook her head, "no, she didn't look like she was hyper aware of it. She thought she experienced it alone maybe? I don't think she attributed it to anything out of the ordinary," offered Cosima.

The Brit pursed her lips, leaning forward on her desk to get closer to the webcam. "She?"

Cosima's eyes doubled in size, realizing too late she may have divulged too much information. Realizing lying to the woman would be futile and foolish at best, Cosima opted for the truth. "Yeah. A co-worker."

"At the institute?" The older woman pried.

"Yes."

A beat. "What is her name?"

Cosima bit the inside of her cheek, closing her eyes tightly, afraid to share– afraid of what it could mean. "Delphine Cormier."

Siobhan leaned back into her chair at the profession, in silent shock. "…Is that so?" Spoke the older woman carefully. Cosima nodded. "Well, Chicken, it seems you two are connected in some way; bonded perhaps? It could mean that you have… imprinted on her–"

"Wait, what?" Sputtered Cosima incredulously. "That-that's impossible. That's only for werewolves, like Cal imprinted on Sarah…"

"Usually, yes. But in this case, no. It's rare, Cosima; very, very rare," responded the matriarch thoughtfully. "This means she is–"

"–I don't believe in soul mates. They're complete bullshit. I think love can be strong, but the idea that two people are destined to be together…" trailed the younger woman.

"It is irrelevant what you believe, Cosima," spat Siobhan, realizing too late she may have come across too harsh. "I'm sorry, dear. This is what is known of imprinting: experiences are shared– her memories are as much hers as they are yours and vice versa." Cosima gulped. Could Delphine really see her own memories? It was possible apparently. What would happen if she saw the truth? "You have to learn to control yourself, Chicken. Bonds are rare and should be cultivated, but she is a Cormier. Her family will not hesitate to kill you, regardless of what you have become to Delphine."

Cosima nodded thoughtfully, unsure of what to do with this information.

"Cosima, relax. Maintain your distance; be smart about this. Your assignment has not changed: infiltrate DYAD, find a cure, remain inconspicuous," advised Siobhan. "How is the rest coming along, hmmm?"

Cosima swallowed the lump in her throat thickly, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "Fine. They're working on an injection that will make human blood undrinkable; it's a prototype, but if things continue progressing as fast as they have been, the product should be available by the beginning of next year."

Siobhan sighed ruefully, "and it's October now. Wonderful."

"S…" began Cosima carefully, "you know that man I almost… you know… in the alleyway when I first got here? The story Danielle told you and everyone else about?"

The woman narrowed her eyes and rested her head on her raised fist after giving the dreadlocked brunette a nod of affirmation.

"He works for DYAD. Not exactly sure what his job is– I know it's a bit of grunt work– but he…" The silence was deafening, and Siobhan was growing restless.

"He _what_ , Cosima?"

The younger vampire glanced at the computer screen timidly, biting the inside of her cheek again until she could feel the slippery skin breaking, tasting foul blood. "…He was with Delphine… They were… a thing, I guess. I mean, they're not anymore, but if he still works within DYAD, I'm sure he'll be visiting her from time to time, even if it annoys the shit out of her…"

The matriarch growled, abruptly standing up from her seat and slamming her fists down hard onto the table. "He'll recognize you."

Cosima nodded, avoiding the screen for as long as possible.

"I'll call Cal so he can dig up as much information on this man as possible. What is his name?"

"Paul Dierden," muttered Cosima coolly.

"WHAT?! HE'S A DIERDEN? BLOODY HELL, COSIMA. YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE SO CARELESS!" Siobhan was fuming, eyes turning black with rage.

Eyes snapping back to the computer screen, Cosima grimaced at the tone of the Brit's voice, never before having been the subject of such anger. "What? What does being a 'Dierden' mean?" Cosima squeaked.

Releasing a deep breath, the older woman sat back on her seat stiffly, covering her face with her hands. "It means he's the son of the Chief-Of-Security at DYAD, Cosima. Or better yet, he _is_ the Chief-Of-Security."

"What happened to his dad?" Inquired Cosima softly, afraid of the answer.

"Felix killed him."

Delphine found herself alone and exhausted, as she always was at the end of a busy workday. But today wasn't like the others. Delphine felt emptier– like a discarded toy, no longer sought out by the child who once cherished it. She was a mere shadow of her former self. It pained her to even begin to comprehend how she had reached this level of invalidity. Delphine felt dead and considered herself no more alive than her brother, because, for all intensive purposes, she died along with Colin. When he burned to death, she burned. When she reflects on him now, she plucks a cigarette out of her purse and tries her hardest to imagine that she is breathing him into her lungs with every puff of smoke she inhales. She wants to drown in the flames like her brother, but can't find it in herself to end her own existence. To Delphine, she and her brother were 'one in the same'– split from the same egg and thrust into an unknown world where the only constant was each other.

When Delphine was scared, she'd grab her brother's hand, clutching her bottom lip between her teeth in worry; now, Delphine merely welcomes the possibility of death. She wouldn't mind dying like her brother. To Delphine, it would only be fair. Half of her died already.

So when Paul relayed to the entirety of DYAD that a certain section of Paris was under investigation and off limits because of a possible vampire threat, Delphine did the only thing that came to mind… and went to explore.

The second Delphine stepped out of her flat, she regretted not shucking on her charcoal double-breasted coat dangling from the rack beside her front door. The wind was biting and harsh, nipping at the uncovered skin poking out from behind her burgundy sweater. Cradling her body, she rubbed the sides of her arms, hoping the added friction would ease a bit of the discomfort.

The streets were desolate, with most Parisians opting to stay inside for a warm meal or more… intimate entertainment. Delphine hummed quietly to herself to distract herself from the freezing temperature. Once she could no longer take the incessant gusts of frigid air slamming into her chest, Delphine darted into a busy bar.

The room was illuminated by the dim glow of cheap light bulbs, the capsules already buzzing from prolonged use. Young men and woman were crawling around the cozy establishment; no older than 35 years of age, Delphine guessed. The space itself was almost antiquated– old wood creaking beneath her feet, customers sprawled atop faded leather booths, and timeless works of art littering the Victorian walls painted a crisp shade of violet.

Needing some liquid courage, Delphine ordered a glass of cognac from the young brunette working the bar. She was beautiful; she was simple and elegant in her motions, something Delphine couldn't help but envy.

The brunette was short, needing to stand on her tiptoes to reach bottles and glasses hanging from their ceiling compartments. What should've been an awkward endeavor for the woman, considering her profession, merely seemed graceful and fluid. If Delphine didn't know any better, she'd say the brunette almost flew to reach her target.

"Bonjour," greeted the woman playfully. "See anything you like?"

Delphine jolted in surprise, meeting the eyes of the brunette now drying the interior of a seeping glass with a scarlet towel. The woman wore a satisfied grin on her pale face; obviously enjoying the speechless effect she had on the blonde– not that it was uncommon for the bartender to begin with. Blushing, Delphine shook her head self-depreciatingly, curls bouncing atop her shoulders. "Ehm… non, I was just…" the Parisian lost sight of her words, chuckling to herself at the absurdity of the situation before meeting the brunette's intense gaze; Delphine's lip caught between her immaculate, ivory teeth.

"What's your name?"

"Delphine– enchanteé," croaked Delphine, offering her creamy, clammy palm as a token of kinship.

The bartender eyed her appraisingly, smirking at the nervousness the blonde radiated like a lighthouse on a stormy night. Setting the dried container on the tabletop with a gentle _clink_ , the woman offered her shaking customer a reassuring smile, flashing prominent canines behind plum, plump lips. The blonde visibly shivered as her offered appendage was taken unabashedly between two icy palms.

"Enchanteé– Danielle, Danielle Fournier."

Cosima couldn't stand being in her apartment any longer, Felix having ignored all her calls. _When the fuck was he in Paris anyway? Why the fuck didn't I know about it?_ Shaking off the foul taste in her mouth from being withheld information by her supposed wingman, Cosima folded her small frame into her signature red coat and wrapped a black-patterned scarf around her neck; she had to keep up appearances, after all, even if she could manage without all these extra layers.

She can't remember getting to the bar, she just figured she could use the distraction– the comfort another's body could offer her if they happened to be in the mood.

Pulling the door open, she was met with a mess of golden curls and rosy cheeks. Her laughter pierced the frigid Parisian air, blasting Cosima's hyperactive thoughts to a mere 'mute.'

"Delphine?" Whispered Cosima, almost inaudibly, the woman possessing her attentions meeting her gaze with wide eyes and an open mouth. The blonde averted her gaze quickly, causing Cosima to follow the eyes of the woman who unexpectedly possessed her unbeating heart. Another's pale hand was on the small of Delphine's back, the trespasser's other hand clutching the blonde's left arm affectionately– still frozen in their interrupted position of uninhibited nonsensical tomfoolery.

Cosima felt sick, her own saliva tasting sour in her mouth, as if all her years of being dead had caught up to her and she were decomposing on the spot.

"Cosima?" Danielle voiced almost as more of an accusation than a question.

Delphine shrugged out of the other Frenchwoman's grasp, straightening her sweater and playing with its hem uncomfortably. "You two know each other?"

"Family friend."

"Distant Cousin," they offered in tandem.

Delphine ignored the slightly differing answers, succumbing to an unbearable sense of guilt she couldn't pin the source of.

"I'm going to go back to work now… uh, it was nice meeting you, Delphine," afforded Danielle meekly, bowing to Cosima as she took her leave. The scientists stared at the woman until she disappeared behind a door on the other end of the room, but not before the bartender offered Cosima a mental note of apology followed by, _I didn't know._

Cosima couldn't tell what Danielle meant– if she recognized they had "connected," or that there was something blossoming between the new co-workers. It didn't really matter. If anything, what mattered was if Danielle was aware that this woman was, in fact, Delphine _Cormier_.

"Uh… hey," muttered Cosima timidly, rubbing the back of her neck with an icy palm. "I didn't expect to see you here– doesn't seem your style."

Delphine turned back around quickly, facing the brunette with a puzzled expression. "What do you mean, 'my style,'" challenged the blonde tactfully, hands braced on her hips.

Opening her mouth in silent mortification at the offense splattered across Delphine's face, Cosima waved her hands in front of her attempting to convey a clear 'no.' "That's totally not what I meant, Delphine– seriously, I'm sorry– I just didn't see you as the type of person to venture off to gay bars in the middle of the night… NOT that doing, well, that, is a bad thing or whatever… I just didn't think you were, like, gay or anything, AND THERE'S NOT ANYTHING WRONG WITH THAT EITHER. I just sorta made a shitty assumption and, like, I _know_ there are stereotypes with what lesbians look like and that's fucked up because, like, people aren't just their sexuality… Unless you're not a lesbian, then I'm sorry– no, there's nothing wrong with being gay because 'hollah,' here I am, haha… ha… oh shit, I totally just word vomited all over you, I'm so sorry–"

Delphine didn't seem offended– at all… whatsoever. Which was a good sign, Cosima thought. In fact, the Parisian was red faced and adorably collapsing into fits of hearty laughter. It seemed warmer, to the vampire– the timber of the human's vocal chords creating a melody of pure pleasure through her body. Cosima felt her stomach clench uncomfortably as desire pooled between her legs. God, she was aching. How could this human– this irrevocably dangerous human– unravel her so effortlessly?

Delphine eventually caught her breath, the giggles pushed into a decrescendo to the back of her throat. Smiling, she tugged on the lapel of Cosima's red coat, admiring the wool fabric with pseudo curiosity. Delphine's nerves were shot, watching Cosima stumble over her own words, barely able to speak coherently, so afraid of offending the Parisian who wasn't even aware of the sexual connotation the bar carried. "You were rambling, Mon Amie… but, I was enjoying myself too much to…" Trying to find the right word, Delphine snapped her fingers determinedly. "–to interrupt!" Concluded the woman with a warm smile, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth habitually.

Cosima mirrored Delphine's expression, eyes crinkling with pure delight from the satisfaction of being in such satisfying company. "I, uh, sort of… ramble a lot. It's not my favorite extra-curricular activity, so feel free to interrupt next time? Maybe, uh, a little sooner?"

She was so close– Delphine. Gusts of warm breath tickling Cosima's slightly parted lips– egging her on to close the distance. ' _Professionalism, Cosima… She's your fucking boss,'_ she warned herself. But really? Did she even care? Not enough, apparently.

The only thing warmer than Delphine Cormier's breath was her molten tongue.


End file.
